


The Devil Disguised as an Angle

by Quixotic_Dragon



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Comedy, One Shot, Other, this is a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 04:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotic_Dragon/pseuds/Quixotic_Dragon
Summary: good god this telephone is hot





	The Devil Disguised as an Angle

I wake up in a dark and cold room, and although it is voluminous, not a single draft runs through it. I have no memory of who I am. I notice something on my wrist and ankle; 8008, the yellow band reads. I'm scared and confused, what's going on?

Suddenly, a light flickers on, illuminating a tall, muscular figure in the center of the room. I approach, allured by its incredibly charming shape. The figure, which I now know is a phone, comes to life.

"Greetings, 8008," it says in an alluring voice. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." It pauses for a moment, and I hold my breath. I pray that it speaks more, blesses me with its sweet, sweet words. It's voice returns, "What's a crack-a-lackin' homeskillet?" I gasp and blush; it knows that I'm a huge fan of old lingo! I now know that it understands me like nobody has before. The phone continued on about a promised land, and as it talked, all of my fear and confusion melt away into a warm comfort.

It finished what it had to say, so I responded, excitingly nervous to be talking to it, “W-wow! The Promised Land sounds so. . . amazing! I-I’m sorry to ask b-but, what’s your name?”

“Don’t worry, 8008, my homeslice! I’ll tell ya after you collect the Thangs, dawg!” the phone responded.

I nod excitedly, my heart bursting at the thought of discovering this stunning phone’s name. A train promptly pulls in after that, and taking my new pass, I quickly dash onboard. I’m determined to get the Thangs as quickly as possible, so I can return to my phone’s warm presence and honey-sweet voice . . .

* * *

 

After days of grueling work, I’ve done it. I’ve gotten the four Thangs that I need, and I quickly gather them all onto the train.

The conductor approaches me, and he seems shocked, “Wow, you already have all the Thangs?” His blue legs tremble suspiciously. “It usually takes them at least a week,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Them?” I ask, “Who’s ‘them?’”

“Ah, the Octolings who have done this before you.”

“Oh.” My heart deflated at the thought that others have done all the same work as I had for the precious phone. I wondered briefly if they would be in the Promised Land too and if I’d have to share the phone with them; I wanted him all for myself. However, before I could think too deeply about it, the train stopped, and so did my heart. Finally, I was here to deliver the Thangs to my stunning phone.

Stepping out into the familiar room, I call out to the phone, “T-Telephone! I have the Thangs!” I place them in front of it, and await its response.

“Absolutely killer, 8008! Fresh, dawg!” it replies. Its tone of voice makes my heart melt. . . nothing could possibly be as grand as and, dare I say, as sexy as, this phone’s dialect.

Although I would love to listen to its voice for hours on end, I interrupt the phone. “You p-promised me that you’d tell me your n-name.”

“Of course, bro! Call me Tartar.”

My entire body was enveloped in heat, and my face grew red-hot as I heard its name. “ _What, what a lovely name,_ ” I thought to myself. Tartar means fierce, man from hell, and a delicious sauce. No name could be more perfect.

Tartar began to meld the Thangs together, and I watched in amazement as it created a massive portal to the Promised Land. I force myself to stop before I move on my own into the alluring lights, flashing before me almost like a trap.

“W-Wait!” I call out. “Tartar. . . the conductor said that o-others are also in the Promised Land. W-Will I have to share them with you?”

“Don’t you worry, dawg. They’re totally fresh! They won’t bother you.”

I sigh with relief and step into the portal. The door behind me closes, and the generator above powers up. But, nothing happens?! The Promised Land isn’t here! I’m confused?

I cry out, “T-T-Tartar, is this thing wor-working?”

It responds flatly, “Oh, it’s working perfectly, homeslice.”

I realize that the generator isn’t actually a generator, but blades roaring towards me. I’m overcome by fear and the cold stab of betrayal as I sob on the floor of the death trap. I'm being killed by the only thing that I could ever love. My world goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> get pranked, dawg.


End file.
